Bag Policy At Sanford Premier Center

So you’re heading to the Sanford Premier Center for a concert, a game, or maybe to finally see if that one magician can really saw a person in half. You grab your favorite tote bag—the one that’s been with you through three festivals and a questionable taco Tuesday. Stop right there. The bag policy at this place is basically a comedy sketch written by a very bored security guard.

First, the bag size rule: it must be smaller than 4.5 inches by 6.5 inches. That is not a typo. That is smaller than a paperback novel, and roughly the size of a very unhappy Chihuahua. I measured my wallet once, and it barely qualified. You can bring in a bag that holds maybe a lipstick, a single granola bar, and your dignity—but not all three at once.

If you show up with a bag that’s even one centimeter too big, prepare for the Bag Court. You’ll be directed to a table where a bored employee will stare at your purse like it insulted their mother. They’ll hand you a tiny plastic zip-top bag that screams “I have given up on life.” You then have to dump your phone, keys, and hopes into this sad little pouch, while your stylish tote is imprisoned in a locker. That locker rental costs $10, by the way. That’s more than my streaming subscription.

Here’s a surprising fact: the policy technically allows clear bags of a larger size—up to 12x12x6 inches. This is the VIP hack. Show up with a transparent backpack and you’re basically a celebrity. Everyone can see your snacks, your extra socks, and your secret third emergency granola bar. You become a walking fishbowl of preparedness. Embrace transparency.

Our Venues — Sioux Falls Sports Authority

But wait—no backpacks at all, even clear ones larger than the 12-inch limit. And don’t even think about a duffel bag, a camera bag, or that cute little crossbody with metal studs. Studs are considered “hard-sided” and will get you a stern head shake. I once saw a woman arguing that her purse was “emotional support” and the guard just pointed to the sign. The sign does not negotiate.

Another shocker: all bags are subject to search, but not every bag gets opened. It’s like airport security but with more confused people holding chapstick. If you’re lucky, they’ll just peer at your tiny bag like it’s a magic trick. If you’re unlucky, they’ll make you empty it onto a table while security watches your sunscreen and gum like it’s contraband. The whole process takes exactly three minutes but feels like an eternity.

Denny Sanford PREMIER Center — Sioux Falls Sports Authority

The real pro tip? Don’t bring a bag at all. Wear a coat with big pockets. I’m talking cargo pants or a jacket that looks like it escaped from a 90s hip-hop video. I once stuffed my phone, wallet, and a small sandwich into a raincoat and walked through in ten seconds. The guard didn’t even blink. You become a ghost—a hungry, unburdened ghost.

And one last surprise: the policy is actually enforced differently depending on the event. A basketball game might be strict. A drag queen show? They might let you bring a small tent if you smile right. Always check the event’s specific rules. Because nothing kills your vibe faster than having to choose between your sunglasses case and seeing your favorite band. Choose wisely, bag warrior.